Under the Java Moon, page 12
The door opened, and George spun to face the door. But there was no husband. An older woman stood there, her hair a mix of blonde and brown, her eyes a pretty hazel. She shared some facial features with the younger woman. Were they mother and daughter?
“Hello,” the woman said in a strident tone. “I’m Mrs. Maria Van Benten. My daughter tells me you’re here to inquire about the room for rent?”
George’s mind swirled with this new information. Perhaps the younger woman wasn’t married. What that thought should signify, he didn’t know. But when she appeared behind her mother, this time with a soft smile on her face, suddenly George felt like he was suspended a few centimeters above the ground. Warmth flooded his chest, and he smiled back.
“Vischer.” Vos’s voice interrupted George’s memories.
He blinked his eyes open. He was back on a deserted island, in a pond, floating in the water.
“We’re going to return to the beach and eat some of the rations,” Vos continued.
George righted himself and pushed his way out of the pond. His stomach grumbled in anticipation. It had been nearly a week since he’d last eaten any sort of meal. He wished he was with his family, facing the changes that Japanese occupation would bring, together.
Chapter Twelve
“Riding our bicycles with friends of Vincentius, we saw our first Japanese soldiers. They stood guard in front of the telephone company and at the palace of the governor-general. They were wearing ‘sun rags,’ strips of cloth attached to the back of their caps. Their helmets were covered with webbing and had leaves stuck to them. Small Japanese flags displaying the words of well-wishers painted in black were attached to their long bayonets which were fixed to their rifles.”
—Jan Vos, Kedungbadak Camp
Rita
“My new name is Willy,” Greta said, peering up from the base of the tree where Rita sat perched on the branches. “Can you remember that? It’s after my papa, Willem.”
Rita squinted down at Greta, trying to decide if she really looked like a boy. Her hair was cut short, and she wore boys’ clothing. Maybe to someone who didn’t know her, Greta looked like a boy. “I can remember.”
Greta nodded. “You and Johan have to make sure you don’t accidentally call me by the wrong name.”
“I won’t,” Rita said, hoping she could really remember. When Mrs. Vos took her children to the registration office, everyone was nervous they’d get caught. But they didn’t. In fact, Mama said that their own family’s registration went very smoothly—probably because the Japanese soldiers were overworked and just trying to get everyone “processed.” But when Mama returned, she didn’t know anything more about where Papa was.
“Willy,” Rita whispered. The name sounded strange to say, but she would have to get used to it. Then her attention was caught by people walking down the road—lots of people.
“Oh,” Greta said. “Here come the refugees.” Without saying anything else, she hurried across the yard to her own house.
Dutch refugees walked along the cobblestones of Laan Trivelli, carrying suitcases and other bundles. Sometimes it was just women and children. Other times, full families. The refugees seemed to be everywhere now, coming from villages and towns outside of Batavia. They were staying in places like the school, the churches, and sharing houses.
A family had even knocked on Mama’s door, and she’d directed them to the nearest shelter.
“What are you doing?” Johan called to her a moment before he began to climb up the tree. “Watching for your papa?”
Rita was always waiting for Papa, it seemed.
Kells whined as Johan abandoned the dog for higher ground. Then the dog circled the tree and finally plopped down, resting his chin on his front paws. Patiently waiting for his best friend.
“Mama says our fathers might not come back home for a while.” This wasn’t really new information, and it seemed she and Johan had this same conversation every day.
Neither of them knew where their fathers were. And either their mothers also didn’t know, or they weren’t saying anything.
Johan settled on a branch not far from Rita. His red hair stuck out every which way this morning, as if he’d rubbed a pillow over his head. It might be funny to look at, but Rita didn’t feel like laughing. She’d heard on the radio that there had been a run on the banks, and now there wasn’t any money left for anyone.
Mama had acted worried, and Rita knew it couldn’t be good if people didn’t have money anymore. How would they buy their food?
Oma had been working in the garden all week, and Rita had been helping her too. But it took a long time for things to grow, and there couldn’t be enough for everyone all of the time.
“Did you read the newspaper last night?” Johan asked, picking off a mango leaf and shredding it between his fingers.
Johan knew she couldn’t read, but he often said things to her like a grown-up, and she liked that. “No, I only listened to the radio.”
“General Ter Poorten listed the Japanese military’s demands,” Johan said.
This had Rita curious. Maybe she’d gone to bed before it was talked about on the radio. Everyone was sleeping longer at night because there were no more air raids and no more wading through water to hide in the bomb shelters.
“Ter Poorten said that Japan has demanded the relinquishment of all arms.”
Rita scrunched up her face. “Weapons?”
“Yes,” Johan confirmed. “It makes sense. Japan is in control now. They are the law and the police. They also asked for self-internment of all military personnel.”
When Rita didn’t say anything, Johan added, “They’re telling all Dutch and Allied military people to turn themselves in.”
“So, when our fathers come back, they will have to turn themselves in?” It wasn’t good news. When her father came back, Rita wanted him living at their house. Not in some other place.
Johan let the torn bits of leaf float down to the ground. “I hope they are hiding good,” he whispered. “Maybe they’re going to come back with a big battleship and beat the Japanese forces.”
There was no way anyone could hear the conversation unless they were standing directly below the tree, but Rita whispered back, “We could hide them and feed them secretly.”
Johan nodded at this.
“What else did Ter Poorten say?” So far, the demands didn’t mean that Rita had to do anything differently herself.
“All dead Japanese troops have to be delivered to the Japanese command center.”
Rita frowned at this. She didn’t want to think about anyone being dead.
“And,” Johan continued, “any Japanese who were imprisoned by the Allies have to be released. The Allies have to stop destroying military equipment, roads, and buildings.”
“Why would the Allies destroy all of that?”
Johan leaned back against the branch behind him and scratched at his head. “It makes things harder for the Japanese army. That’s what my mother said.”
Below their perch, Kells rose to his feet and barked.
“Quiet, Kells,” Johan said. “Sit, boy, sit.” The dog obeyed.
A lady carrying a suitcase was coming up the road. The woman looked about Oma’s age. Didn’t she have any family?
After the woman passed, and things were quiet again, Johan said, “The Japanese military said that we have to cease all communication with the outside world.”
At this information, Rita stared at her friend. “Why?”
“So we don’t know what’s going on, I guess,” Johan said. “But we’re going to hide our radio.”
Would Mama hide their radio? Should Rita go and tell her?
She peered down the street. Another person was coming up it—no, it was multiple people. Men. Japanese soldiers. Their cloth hats with neck flaps made it easy to distinguish they were soldiers, especially since they carried swords or rifles with bayonets.
“What’s going on?” Rita blurted.
Just then trucks came into view. Most of the trucks she saw had been taken from the Dutch and were being driven by Japanese soldiers. Not all of the soldiers were Japanese though. Some were Indonesian—having joined the Japanese ranks.
Kells leapt up and ran toward the hedge dividing the yard from the road and began to bark wildly.
“Quiet, Kells!” Johan demanded.
Kells stopped barking, but every bit of his body was tense. On alert.
Instead of continuing their march, the soldiers stopped at a house several places down. It was the home of Captain Jan Venema and his family of three daughters. The youngest daughter, Ina, was fifteen, and she’d babysat Rita and Georgie before. A couple of the soldiers went to the front veranda of the Venema house. Rita didn’t know what was being said or what was happening, but the ache in her stomach told her that they’d be coming to her house as well.
She looked over at Johan, and their gazes connected. His bright blue eyes were filled with intensity she hadn’t seen before. “We need to get to our houses. Hide your radio.”
Rita swallowed against her suddenly scratchy throat. Then, as if on cue, they both scrambled down from the tree. “Let’s go, Kells,” Johan said, then took off running.
Rita fled to her own house. Bursting inside, she found her mother and Aunt Tie watching from the front window. From somewhere in the back of the house, she could hear Oma talking to Georgie.
“The soldiers are knocking on people’s doors, and there are a lot of them. They’re at the Venema house.”
Mama opened her arms. “Come here, Rietie.”
Rita hurried into them and wrapped her arms about her mother’s waist. Her belly was soft, and Rita knew it was because she was growing another baby. Maybe a sister this time?
“Johan said we need to hide our radio.”
Mama sighed. “What would we do without Johan?” Her tone sounded light, and Rita looked up, confused. Wasn’t Mama worried about the soldiers?
“He said that General Ter Poorten gave a list of instructions from the Japanese army,” Rita added. “No more communication with the outside world.”
“That’s the least of our worries,” Aunt Tie proclaimed and walked into the dining room. She turned off the radio and moved it to the sideboard. “If we hide the radio, they’ll search everywhere for it.”
Rita looked at her mother, who had knelt before her. “Listen to me, Rietie,” Mama said as she placed both hands on Rita’s shoulders. “If anyone asks you about your father, you must tell them that you haven’t seen him and you don’t know where he is.”
What was Mama talking about? Rita hadn’t seen her father and she didn’t know where he was. Then she realized . . . maybe Mama did know something. Did Papa write a letter? Maybe he had come back in the middle of the night, and he was hiding somewhere. But before she could ask Mama about it, a knock sounded on the door.
Brisk and loud.
Mama straightened and, with measured steps, she walked to the door and opened it.
There, on the veranda were three soldiers, reminding Rita of when they’d had a previous visit looking for Papa.
It was the same officer who was a shop owner. In Dutch, he said, “Mrs. Vischer, your family is ordered to evacuate. Pack up what you can transport with you. All the residents of Laan Trivelli are moving into a protected area.”
From where Rita stood near the window, she saw her mother visibly flinch.
Aunt Tie stood rooted in place in the middle of the living room as she stared at the officer. “Where is this place?”
“Tjideng. You have one hour,” the officer said, glancing about the room, but not really focusing on anything. “Pack your papers and anything essential. You’ll not be returning here for some time.”
Mama had frozen. It seemed that all of her words were stuck in her throat.
The door shut behind the Japanese soldiers, and their boots tramped down the steps of the veranda.
Rita stared after them through the screen window as they crossed their yard, their footprints quickly swallowed up by the lush grass. They passed the bomb shelter—no one even looked at it—and continued to the Vos home. Soon, Johan would get the same news.
“Tie,” Mama said, in a faint voice, her hand pressing against her stomach. “Tell Oma that we need to pack.”
Tie said nothing but headed into the hallway.
Rita pushed out a breath and held in the tears that burned her eyes. “Mama, why do we have to leave our house? How will Papa find us?”
Mama blinked and looked over at Rita.
Was she crying?
“Papa will find us,” Mama said with determination in her tone. “We are all registered, remember? This will be an adventure, that’s all.” She smiled again, this time it was more real.
Rita still had more questions, but Mama said, “We don’t have much time. We need to pack the most important things to take with us in case we need something. Can you help Oma and Georgie?”
By the time Rita reached the hallway, Oma was in action, finding suitcases for everyone. Georgie couldn’t carry one, so he would share with Rita. Over and over in her mind, Rita thought about what was the most important. She gazed at her teddy bear for a long time and then, finally, she kissed it and put it on her bed. Her teddy bear could watch over their house for them.
Rita could hear Mama and Oma in the other room, discussing what things they could bring. One thing they decided on was a portable cot. It could be folded up and it had wheels.
“It won’t be hard to transport,” Mama told Oma. “You can use it for a bed since we might have to sleep on the ground.”
“I don’t want any fuss,” Oma said. “I can sleep anywhere.”
Would it be like camping, Rita wondered. That wouldn’t be too bad. It might actually be fun. Maybe they could come back to their house in a few days, and then Rita could tell her teddy bear all about it.
But when Rita went into the front room with her suitcase, she found Mama putting seeds into a box.
“What are those for?” Rita asked.
“So we can plant another garden,” Mama said. She looped an arm about Rita’s shoulders and squeezed. “We’ll have plenty of food at the camp, but it might be fun to grow some of our own.”
Maybe they’d be gone longer than a few days, then. Or maybe Mama wanted to have two gardens?
“Can you help Aunt Tie move our things onto the veranda?” Mama said.
It wasn’t hard work, Rita decided. Mama and Oma’s suitcases were too heavy to carry, but Rita was still strong enough to drag them. Aunt Tie had rolled out the folded cot, and then she sat on her own suitcase after securing the two leather straps. She seemed to be done helping.
Rita had once asked her aunt why she didn’t have any children. Mama had shushed her, but Aunt Tie had laughed. It wasn’t a very nice laugh, though.
“I’m not married,” Aunt Tie had said. “Maybe someday, though. But right now, I like to travel too much, and children would only slow me down.”
Rita had wanted to ask her where she traveled to, because she hadn’t heard any traveling stories. But Mama had given that shake of her head which meant to keep her questions to herself. Or that something wasn’t her business.
There were a lot of things that weren’t her business, Rita knew, so it was nice when Johan told her things anyway.
Rita went back inside to see if she needed to help with something else, but Mama said, “You can wait on the veranda. I’m almost finished here.”
So Rita returned to the veranda and the silent Aunt Tie. There was plenty of action out on Laan Trivelli to watch, though.
A truck rattled along the road outside their hedges. In the back sat a Dutch family. Maybe two families. No men were with them, only women and children. Suitcases were piled around the families. Japanese soldiers drove the truck. Were they going to the protected place too?
Across the yard, Johan walked onto his veranda, lugging a suitcase behind him. No, it was Greta, her hair cut short. From this distance, they looked almost the same. Greta waved, and Rita waved back.
If everyone was going to the camp, maybe it wouldn’t be so different than their neighborhood, after all.
Next, Oma and Georgie came out hand in hand.
“Where’s Mama?” Rita asked.
“She’s taking one last look around,” Oma said.
At this comment, Aunt Tie rose to her feet and headed down the steps, her suitcase thumping after her. She walked to the edge of the yard, then stood, with fists on hips. Waiting for the Japanese soldiers.
Rita wanted to go back inside to look around with Mama. Maybe they’d forgotten something. But just then, Mama came out, pushing the pram that used to be Georgie’s. Rita guessed that Mama wanted to bring it for the new baby.
“Are we allowed to take that?” Oma asked.
“We’ll find out,” Mama said. “You can push it, right, Rita?”
Rita nodded. Maybe she’d put her suitcase in it, too.
“I want to push it,” Georgie declared.
“All right, Georgie,” Mama said, “you push first, and when you get tired, Rita will help.”
Oma said, “Let us help with the cot first.”
Rita hurried up the steps with Oma and picked up one side of the cot. Together, they lifted it down the steps, then Oma told Mama, “Don’t overdo it.”
Mama wiped a bit of blonde hair from her face. “It’s too late for that.”
“Are you hurting?” Oma asked.
Were the women talking about Mama’s pregnancy? Or was something else wrong?
“I’m fine.” Mama moved up the steps again, took out a key from her pocket, and locked the door.
“Will it make a difference?” Oma said in a soft voice.
